Southern Hospitality
by Rabid Ghosts
Summary: [AH/AU] Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the fact they'd never see each other again but Chloe Saunders and Derek Souza are in for one wild summer.
1. New York Volunteer

Southern Hospitality

1

_New York Volunteer  
_

It was as he unrolled the bales of hay that she pulled up.

The city girl here for New York's Volunteer week.

Derek Souza wiped the sweat from his brow as she got out of the car, carrying, surprisingly, only one suitcase and a black backpack.

She was dressed ready, wearing worn jeans, working boots and an old t-shirt pinned up to her waist with a hair tie. She was tiny, though; she barely reached his chest. She reminded him a porcelain doll, with her wavy blonde-red hair, streaked with red, big blue eyes that looked around nervously, and porcelain skin splashed with freckles. Her hair was held back in a ponytail and her hat, dingy, read _AR Gurney Arts. _A gleam of red on her chest caught his attention; she wore a red pendant on a gold chain.

Wiping off his sweaty hands, he headed over to her as the car sped away, kicking up gravel.

"Bye!" she called to the man driving, who waved back before his arm disappeared into the vehicle.

She looked like she wouldn't last five minutes without breaking something, Derek mused as he walked up behind her. When she turned around, she let out a little yelp and her face went beautifully red.

"H-Hello," she squeaked. Even her voice was_ dainty._

"I-I'm C-Chloe." She promptly stuck out her hand, which he ignored and gestured to the grease on his fingers.

"Derek."

She was watching him as he turned and whistled shrilly.

The door slammed open and Kit came out, wiping his hands on his dishtowel. "What?" Kit hollered as he shielded his eyes. His silver-streaked hair hung around his face loosely, reminding Derek that he needed to buy more hair ties for his old man to use while he cooked.

"Oh, hello!" Kit said once he caught sight of Chloe.

Kit was walking towards them when another car pulled up.

Derek reached out and grabbed Chloe's arm, yanking her out of the way as the bubblegum pink Jeep zoomed by, spitting gravel and dust. The hubcaps vibrated with the sheer volume of the driver's music.

Chloe made a noise of disgust as she wrinkled her nose at the car.

_Cute, _Derek thought.

"O-Oh, th-thank—"

"Hey, Chloe." A tall, dark-skinned girl with plenty of curves stepped out of the car, wearing gladiator sandals and a tank top that clung to her like a second skin. She was pretty, if you were into lots of makeup and sultry eyes. Her coppery hair was braided down her back in cornrows and her tawny-colored eyes were surrounded with mascara and black eye shadow.

Derek shook his head and hunched his shoulders as Kit introduced himself to the girls.

"Ch-Chloe." When the red-streaked wonder said this, the dark-skinned girl snickered softly.

He shot her a glower.

"I'm Rae," she said sweetly as she stuck her hand out.

Her smile faltered when he didn't shake her hand but she quickly masked it and turned to Chloe, who looked like she'd seen a ghost. Hm. Maybe they knew each other?

"Derek, why don't you show them to their rooms?" Kit suggested, brushing his hair out of his weathered but kind face.

"Can't," Derek muttered, "I have to go feed the horses and brush them down."

"I'll show them, Dad," Simon called as he swung out of the house, wiping the grease from Tori's bike off his hands and onto his jeans, leaving black streaks.

Rae smiled but it was a fake, sugary one.

"Oh, u-um, D-Derek?"

He turned, his eyes meeting Chloe's wide ones. She looked so nervous and scared, he felt kind of bad for her. She fidgeted, like she was antsy. "T-Th-Thank you, for um, you know. S-saving me, I guess." She flashed him a quick, real smile before Simon walked up.

"I owe you one," she continued quietly.

He nodded to let her know he heard and headed back to the horses' stalls.

* * *

He was soaked with sweat as he sprayed down the floor, pushing away the dirt and the feces that wouldn't brush away with the scrub-brush. His shirt clung to his chest and his hair stuck to his jaw, his neck, and his forehead. Sweat streamed into his eyes, making him pause every few minutes to wipe it away with his forearm.

"D-Derek?"

He turned and found Chloe standing there, holding a pitcher of water and a glass. "I-I th-thought you'd like some." She lifted the glass as if to say _see? _and smiled softly. She looked too fragile to be outside.

He paused and turned off the hose. "Thanks," he mumbled as he took the pitcher from her and tilted it to his lips. It was cool and it slid down his throat, quenching the thirst. Several long minutes passed.

"Your wel-welcome," she said. She craned her neck around him and he saw someone come out of the house, talking loudly.

"Would you l-li-like some help?"

He shook his head as he passed her the empty pitcher and ignored the awed look on her face.

"You drank all of that by yourself?" she squeaked.

He felt his lips twitch. He offered a shrug as he turned away. "I'm almost done."

"Kit said dinner's…oh." Rae's voice made him tense up. He didn't acknowledge her as she walked in, the click of her shoes echoing around the three of them.

"H-Hi, R-R—"

"Why do you talk like that?"

He clenched his jaw as he adjusted the nozzle to the hose and suddenly, Rae was screaming, Chloe was laughing, and Derek was soaked to the bone.

The nozzle had popped off-a common occurrence since Derek hated to buy new things and would rather fix than drive the fifteen minute drive into the city to buy a new one-and the force of the water had back-lashed a frigid spray.

Chloe was giggling and laughing, her damp t-shirt clinging to her tiny figure, damp hair sticking to her neck as Rae freaked out.

"At least you aren't hot anymore," Chloe said with a smile.

Derek's mouth tilted slightly back as Rae shot Chloe a dirty look and stomped away.

"My shoes cost two hundred dollars!" she shrieked as the screen door slammed shut behind her.

The sound of Tori and Simon's laughter floated up into the darkening sky as Derek walked Chloe back to the house, feeling a bit…softer towards the kind girl.

_Maybe it won't be so bad. _


	2. Introduction To Scum

Southern Hospitality

02

_Introduction To Scum  
_

Dinner was a tense one.

Rae kept shooting him heated looks and glowered darkly at Chloe, who looked ready to flee if the opportunity arose.

Derek speared a chunk of chicken and took a bit as he surveyed the table.

Tori was secretly texting Liz under the table, as per usual, probably complaining about being away from her three-year girlfriend.

Simon was talking quietly to Chloe, trying to draw her attention away from the prissy rich girl glaring at her.

Liam and Ramon were absent, which was expected.

Royce was staring at Chloe with a disgusting glint in his eyes, a taunting smirk flashing on his lips every time Derek glanced at him.

He knew what he was doing.

"S-so, um," Chloe said nervously, drumming pretty, pale fingers on the tabletop, drawing Derek's undivided attention from his stare down with Royce, "w-wh-what do you guys d-do here? On the f-farm, I mean."

A lock of curly hair fell into her face and, before he could comprehend or register he'd moved, he brushed it out of her face, his breath still in his lungs. Their eyes locked, in a stalemate, neither moving, blue against green, sky against grass.

Chloe's skin turned red in a flush and she broke eye contact.

Royce's lips were curved up, in a mockery of a smile, a sneer in his eyes. He was thinking and when Royce thought, it always ended in disaster.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "We clean the stables, brush down the animals, feed them, change their bedding, tend to the crops," he explained, turning his attention back to the blue-eyed beauty.

She was watching him earnestly now, intrigued.

Rae was mimicking her but her eyes were glossy and ran over his biceps in an unsettling way.

"We're pretty much self-sufficient," Simon quipped as he sipped his diet soda, tilting back onto two legs of his chair. His plate was empty, clean, the utensils thrown onto of his dingy paper napkin. "If one of us gets hurt, Dad's a doctor, er, well, ex-doctor and, if it's really bad like this one time, Derek and I were kicking 'round this ball and out of nowhere—" Derek shot his brother a dark look and he shut up immediately.

"Anyway, if Dad can't fix it, we go to the town hospital," Simon finished quickly.

"What came out of n-nowhere?" Chloe whispered to Derek, eyes round with curiosity.

Simon glanced at him and Derek shrugged.

"A little rat dog," the half-aisan boy said, mouth twisting like he'd bitten a lemon, "It tore through the muscles of Derek's hand and hit the bone. Damn thing was crazy. He's trying to shake it off, Dad's trying to pry it off and the lady's screaming, 'Don't hurt my little Toby!'" He shook his head in disgust.

Derek was sipping his water when he heard her snort, hand over her mouth and then she was laughing, head thrown back, rocking onto two legs of her chair with the force of her legs.

He watched her laugh, the sound clean and innocent.

Simon looked startled for a split second before he laughed too, loudly.

Derek felt his lips threaten to turn upright and hurriedly swallowed several mouthfuls of water.

"I don't believe we met," purred a voice from the end of the table that grated on Derek's nerves.

His eyes flickered to the voice's owner and Royce's taunting gaze met his.

"I'm Royce," said the slime ball, settling his intense eyes on Chloe, who squirmed uncomfortably.

"I-I-I'm Ch-Chloe."

He hummed in response and just…stared, for about three minutes before his attention was shifted to Rae, who became flustered and used her low shirt to her advantage.

Derek's lip curled.

"Chloe," he said softly, watching as she seemingly came out of a panic and blinked up at him, "stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble." As if he could hear him, Royce's head snapped up and his dark eyes locked on Derek's green ones.

A challenge gleamed in Royce's dark eyes as he pretended to listen to Rae's babbling.

Derek felt a rush race through his veins as the dark-haired boy turned his head away with a smirk. "He's trouble," Derek repeated in Chloe's eyes, his will firming into concrete.

He'd protect her and her innocence, even if it meant incurring the wrath of a son of a bitch like Royce.

* * *

The scalding water ran down his scarred back and he winced as the aches and knots of the day's labor melted away. Derek's hair clung to his closed eyelids as he stood under the hot spray, water rivulets running down his body, easing away grime and tension.

His brain was a whirlwind of thoughts; Chloe, Royce, Rae, the horse due with twins any time now, Simon, Kit, they swirled over and over and over in his brain until he slumped to the floor.

He knew he had to keep Royce's disgusting mutts off Chloe but how was he supposed to do it without Rae cramming her tongue down his throat? And the horse was due any time so he'd have to birth the foals by himself, since Simon and Tori refused to do it.

He groaned and fisted his hair, yanking at it. The pain distracted him and reminded him to breathe, to calm down. The back of his head hit the wall softly and he stared up at the ceiling blankly, trying to think.

He closed his eyes and slowly got up; his bones creaked and his muscles groaned in protest, sore and tender. He shut off the water and the steam made him dizzy, light-headed; it was weighing down on his nude body.

He turned away and his bare feet touched the cold tiles. Shivers danced across his skin. He wiped off the mirror to gaze at his reflection as he brushed his teeth and scrubbed at his face. His skin was still damp as he dressed in pajama bottoms and headed to the kitchen for a quick glass of water to help clear away the hot humidity from his shower. He walked passed the living room and paused. Someone was slumped on the couch. A closer inspection made him sigh.

Chloe had fallen asleep, a book laying open in her lap, head down.

Sighing at her, he reached the couch and leaned down, tucking his arms under her legs and across her back. She was light in his arms, so light.

Nobody else was awake; everyone was dead to the world. He carried Chloe back to her room, careful not to jostle her or bend the pages of her book. Using one arm to hold her, he wiggled the doorknob and managed to get it open.

Her room was messy, clothes everywhere. His face flamed when he noticed the bra hanging off the chair and the panties on the floor but he smiled down at her softly and laid her down on the bed, tucking the cool, pink sheets over her sleeping body.

He bookmarked her book and set it on the night stand and brushed her hair out of her face. She looked so young and peaceful while she slept so soundly.

It was he climbed into his own bed, wearing nothing but his boxers now, that his resolve became concrete: _I'll keep Royce away from you, don't worry.  
_


	3. Secret

Southern Hospitality

03

_Secret  
_

The bed creaked as he sat up, rubbing the sweat out of his eyes. _Not now, _he thought desperately as wisps of his dream came back in flashes behind his closed lids. _A man's laugh…screaming…begging the man to stop, begging him to end the unbearable agony. _Clenching his jaw, Derek rose and stretched towards the ceiling; he couldn't let Zachary affect him anymore, after all it _had _been eleven years since he last saw him.

Outside, the sun had yet to rise, the sky dark as midnight. He was certain the animals were awake by now; he could hear them moving, restless and eager to be exercised. Stripping down, he walked to the bathroom and showered.

Hot rain washed down his face and dampened his hair but he shivered and braced himself against the wall. His head flopped forward and he dug his nails into the tile.

He could feel Zachary behind him, stroking his sides, murmuring in his ear: _You're a filthy, pathetic boy. _

Tremors racked his figure.

_And filthy boys need to be punished. _The belt trailed across his back, making him shiver. And then, _whack! _The blow was right between his shoulder blades and blood ran, hot and sticky, down his spine.

Derek slipped and crashed to his knees, the impact jarring his skull and his teeth sank into his lip, blood bursting in his mouth. The dream evaporated but tears still ran down his cheeks, burning his eyes. The water beat against his back as he knelt there, slowly becoming aware that someone was knocking loudly on the bathroom door. Brushing his hair away, he hauled himself to his feet and rinsed off the soap, watching it swirl down the drain.

Drying off quickly, he pulled on jeans a t-shirt and opened the door.

Royce grinned at him but it quickly dropped when he saw who it was in the bathroom; a sneer dominated his tanned face in a millisecond. "Hello, Killer Mutt," he purred and Derek's fist tightened on the doorknob.

Ever since he found out who Derek's biological father was, he'd called him _Killer Mutt_ just to piss him off.

"Banks," he said, forcing nonchalance. Blood thumped in his eardrums as the mobster's son shouldered passed him and slammed the bathroom door in his face. Derek stood there for a moment, torn between beating the living shit out of Royce and walking away. Deciding the dark-skinned boy wasn't worth it, he walked away and was halfway down the stairs when heard someone call his name quietly.

Chloe peered over the banister at him, hair pulled back into a messy braid, wearing jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Her freshly washed face brightened when she saw who it was on the steps. "W-wait up," she squeaked and trotted out of his view.

He could hear her rattling around in something and she reappeared, holding some old sneakers.

"I wanna come with you."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure."

She scampered down the steps passed him, hair bounding down her back as she shoved on her sneakers.

"I have to go let out of the animals and clean the stalls," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest as he shivered. "Take a jacket, it's pretty chilly in the early morning hours," he said.

She headed back upstairs and he waited by the front door, ears straining to hear her. A door slammed, a brief snippet of conversation between her and Simon, and then she was back, bouncing down the steps.

He didn't ask what they spoke about.

* * *

By the time the sun rose, orange peeking over pink and purple, they were back inside and just kicking off their muddy shoes when Rae swung into the kitchen, dressed in an oversized t-shirt that _definitely _didn't belong to her. Her hair was slightly nappy and she was makeup-less; she looked better without all the artificial stuff on her face.

She yawned loudly and stretched, showing off her tiny boy-shorts and a bite-mark on her inner thigh. "Oh, hi," she breathed as she fluttered her eyelashes at Derek.

He rolled his eyes.

Rae's eyes narrowed to slits as she realized he wasn't alone.

"What have you two been doing?" Simon asked as he shuffled in, bleary-eyed and half-asleep.

"I got to wash pi-iglets! It was really cool. My mom used to take me to go see pigs all the time," responded Chloe, walking closer to him.

Derek stretched casually and ignored Rae's blatant staring; he needed to get away from her as soon as possible.

"Your mom's dead, right? Are you sure you weren't playing with your Ouija boards again, Chloe?" Rae examined her nails casually as malice laced her words.

Derek paused.

"O-Ou-Ouija?" Chloe stammered, horror sliding across her expressive face. And fear.

"Isn't that what your kind does? Play with Ouija boards and 'contact the dead'? Contact Mommy?" The copper-haired girl smirked as color drained out of Chloe's face.

"I-I d-do-on't know—" she stammered and fear made her voice tremble and waver.

Rae turned to Derek and there was something mischievous in her eyes but it wasn't the good-hearted kind; it was the kind that would change his thoughts on the blonde, like Rae _wanted _to get Chloe in trouble or spill a secret.

"Didn't her aunt _tell_ you?" she continued sweetly, a mocking lilt lighting up in her voice as she stared up at him innocently.

"R-Rae, do-don't—" Chloe begged, sounding close to crying, but Rae cut her off, a smile on her lips.

"Chloe's crazy," she said and everything got quiet.

"R-Rae!" Chloe shrieked and she looked white as a ghost, her eyes filled with tears.

Rae smiled. "She thought, for the longest time, that she could see ghosts. See her dead mom. At the beginning of her freshman year, she had one of her schizo-freak episodes and got shipped to a crazy house for crazy kids like her."

Chloe let out a soft sound like a sob and he watched her bolt, flying up the stairs like a frightened deer.

"I don't care," Derek blurted.

Rae blinked.

"I don't care, Rodgers. If you think that's going to deter me, than your brain is the size of a walnut." His lip curled and Rae scrambled back, fear flashing across her face.

_Good, _whispered Zachary in the back of his mind, _fear is the ultimate weapon. _

It was as he stood in front of Chloe's door that he answered. **_I'm _**nothing **_like you. _**

_You and I are not so different, son. _


	4. Acceptance

Southern Hospitality

04

_Acceptance_

To be completely honest, Derek hadn't the slightest idea what he'd say to Chloe when she opened the door. He'd shoved down his natural instinct to not care and had gone after her but now what? Should he apologize? He felt trapped and panicky; sweat slicking his under arms and the back of his neck, as he knocked softly with the side of his fist.

The door creaked open slowly and a hand curled around the edge of the door.

"I-I'm fine," she said in a weak voice, peering up at him with bloodshot eyes. Her nose was red and her cheeks streaked with tear trails.

"I don't care," he blurted out despite himself, leaning against the door-frame, towering above her like a mountain of flesh and bone. He had to crane his neck and angle his head down to meet her sad eyes. "I don't care if you're crazy," he said quickly, "it doesn't matter to us. Crazy isn't necessarily bad."

_How would you know? _Zachary snickered softly.

Derek glanced behind his shoulder just in case the man was behind him, lurking in the shadows, behind the sunlight.

"E-everyone will know…again…" Chloe sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

He managed something that may have been a smile because she smiled up at him. "Listen, Chloe, none of us care if you have mental problems or not. We won't treat any differently, as long as you don't threaten any of us."

Easing open the door a bit more, she stepped out, biting her lip. She looked a bit livelier.

"How about we go brush down the horses? We have some carrots to feed them," Derek suggested with a shrug.

She nodded and scrabbled into her sneakers as they made their way down the steps. Rae was nowhere in sight and neither was Royce, thank god. Derek wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep himself from punching either of them.

* * *

"This is Sugar," Derek said, watching Chloe timidly hold out the carrot to the small foal, which chewed off the tip and sighed against the girl's shaking fingertips.

Excited blue eyes swiveled to the country boy, who was busy brushing down Sugar's mother, Rocky, and her face was lit up, a grin spreading across her face like a child's.

"He ate it," she giggled, stroking down the foal's nose and between his eyes.

Sugar whined and butted his head when Chloe turned to look at Derek.

He realized he'd been staring for a very long time and quickly looked away, his cheeks burning. She was so innocent, so beautiful, and so carefree, that she took his breath away. Clearing his throat, he pointedly fixed his attention on Rocky, brushing her curly mane. Chloe a_lways_ took his breath away.

"Isn't that—" she began but a voice cut her off.

Striding towards them in a sharp pace was a blonde man in a flannel jacket and Royce.

Derek immediately reacted. He tugged Chloe behind him, away from Royce and Liam and led the horses to the stables.

"Hold on a minute," said Liam, reaching them in a few quick, jittery strides, casually slapping a hand on the horse's flank.

Rocky hissed and threw her head back to whinny, kicking out her hooves dangerously.

Somewhere along the way, something hit Derek hard and he lost his grip on Chloe's arm.

"We're gonna have _lots _of fun," Liam sneered as he held Chloe against his chest while she went red-faced.

"Chloe," Derek murmured as he stroked Rocky's neck, feeling her relax slowly, "you don't want to be around them, do you?"

His breath froze in his lungs when she didn't answer, only peeled herself out Liam's grip and turned to Derek. Her head swung from side to side, eyes begging him.

He reached a hand out and she grabbed it, letting him pull her against his chest; she trembled like a frightened rabbit, her heartbeat frantic against her chest, heavy enough for him to feel it.

Royce, who'd been quiet until now, spoke up, clapping. "The prince on his white horse to save the princess?" he asked, glancing down at the rings on his fingers.

Derek tensed.

"Ironic, you being the heroic redneck considering your daddy issues," Royce continued conversationally.

A bucket of ice tipped down Derek's back and horror filled his chest. "Let's go, Chloe," he whispered in her ear and took her by the arm, pulling her along with him.

Royce kept on going. "Remember when we first met, Derry?"

The nickname sent a shard of ice through his chest and he forgot how to use his lungs.

Chloe looked panicky.

"You were so..emo," the mobster's son laughed, a noise like glass shattering. "Even after all these years, you pretend to be someone you aren't, and never can be."

Liam grinned, showing off tobacco-stained teeth, and the effect made Chloe squeak in fear. If anything, his wolfy grin got wider and he bared his teeth.

"A monster like you can't pretend to be a prince. At least I know I'm a monster. I'm not pretending." Royce paused and gave Derek a look that could've been pity and sympathy had it not been for the smile on his lips. A feral light slid into his gaze.

"We're both monsters here, Derek, but who's worse? The one who pretends to be the hero, on the white horse? Or the one who does nothing to hide his nature?"

"Shut up!"

Derek started, as did the other boys and Chloe, who jumped a foot in the air, as Tori came stalking around the corner of the corner, fury lighting up her beautiful face.

Chloe shrank and molded herself into Derek's side, fear written across her face.

"All you do is go on and on and I'm sick of it," Tori yelled, hands on her hips. She looked dark and untouchable, her hair floating around her, and her loud voice carrying across the field.

Derek wished God didn't hate him so much.


	5. Blur

Southern Hospitality

05

_Blur_

Royce backed off and all Derek could hear was the pounding in his ears. "Let's go," he muttered, raking back his hair.

Chloe wiped her hands on her jeans, looking ashen but okay.

"What was that—hey!" It was Tori, sprinting towards them, a blur of blue-black hair and tight clothes. "Derek!" She grabbed his arm and he wheeled around, tearing away from his sister's grasp. Fear flashed across her angular face. _Even she's afraid of you, _a voice whispered softly to him.

"What?" he bit out instead sharply, cramming his hands into his pockets and rocking a bit back onto his heels.

"What was _that _all about?" his sister demanded, hands on her hips.

He managed a shrug before he turned and put a hand on Chloe's back, intending to steer her back to the house.

"Derek! Answer me, you idiot!" Tori reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. His over-shirt fell away, leaving him in his tank-top. He stumbled, trying to process this as Tori let out a soft "oops".

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked as he grabbed his shirt from his sister and slid it back on.

"Stupid," he muttered as he glared at Tori.

"Didn't realize it was unbuttoned. I was _not _expecting a strip show," Tori sneered smoothly, flicking back her hair.

Derek's eyebrows rose.

Chloe's confused expression never faltered as the three of them headed back, Tori keeping her distance and Chloe far too close to him for his tastes.

The scars across his back throbbed.

* * *

Simon was wrestling with Nate for the TV remote, the screen flicking between the cooking channel and some anime show.

Derek's head ached and his temples thumped with a growing migraine. He felt twitchy and sweaty, feeling his tank top stick to his skin. The confrontation took a lot out of him, mainly the part about his dad. He felt sick, bile churning in his stomach as he climbed up the stairs and hid out in his room, his hands shaking as he locked the door.

He barely made it to his bed before the panic hit him hard, rocking through him in harsh waves. Bile built up in the back of his throat, sour and acidic. His head pounded, sharp and incessant, like someone was driving a pick-axe into the back of his skull and he bit his lip to keep quiet. When he squeezed his head to keep his brain from exploding all over the place, he half-expected to feel that familiar slickness in his hair, red and metallic, clumping his hair, matting it together.

His trembling fingers parted through his hair, searching, searching for that red slickness that he always thought would be there. There were no slivers of glass or shards in his clumpy hair; all he could feel was silky skin and sweat on his hands. He hardly ever had the breakdowns but what Royce had said earlier, in front of an _outsider_, nonetheless, had started the reaction inside him.

He recognized the weakness in his knees, the trembling of his hands hidden in his pockets, and the sweat that began to pour down his back. He really wanted to seek out Royce and beat the shit out of him but, for right now, he settled down into his musky bed covers and cried silently as wave after wave tore through him, each one harsher than the last.

* * *

Kit knocked on his door.

Blearily, Derek lifted his head and stared at the red stein on his pillow, strings of bloody drool following his chin. Had he bitten through his lip again?

"Derek?" His adoptive father was easing into the room as he sat up, blinking at the hallway light creeping in.

What time was it?

"Another episode?" Kit asked softly, closing the door as Derek caught a glimpse of Simon's worried face, a younger carbon copy of his father's.

"Yeah," the dark-haired boy muttered, shoving back lank hair and wincing as the remains of a headache pounded.

"You had a nose bleed."

Derek wiped his hand across his lip, staining it red. "Yeah, I guess." His eyes rolled around, slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room. "What time—" he began hesitantly.

"You were up here since three, according to Tori, after an incident with Royce Banks." Kit's normally open face hardened as Derek swept his legs over the side of his bed, ignoring the way the cold air stung his sensitive skin.

He couldn't look at the older man as he rose slowly, his muscles straining, protesting.

"It's noth—" he began.

"Bullshit," whispered Kit, his tone softly deadly.

Derek faltered in step and his knee buckled, the bad knee, but he caught himself on the edge of his student desk, propping himself up, using it as leverage.

"It's been getting worse and worse," his adoptive father continued sharply, "and I won't stand by while my son is harassed."

_I'm not your son, _Derek wanted to scream at him, instead settling for shoving himself up and his knee unlocked, bending correctly. "He's not harassing me," he said quietly, squaring his shoulders and meeting Kit's almond-shaped eyes with his infamous glower.

The older man backed slightly and Derek thought, _I'm _not _your son. Would a _real _father back away from his son like he's a dangerous animal?_

"I can take care of myself." His chin tilted up as Kit's face twisted in something like determination and…pride?

"I have some leftovers if you want to heat them up," Kit muttered before he turned and left, his long hair trailing slightly behind him.

Derek closed the door and sank to his knees, the words piling up inside his brain. _I'm not your son! I'm not your son! I'm. Not. Your. Son. I'm a monster. _Somehow, the words never left the recesses of his mind and were curled up, waiting for him to screw up. He rose slowly, pulled on some clean sweats and a hoodie, and opened the door. His stomach rumbled all the way down the stairs.


	6. Outcast

Southern Hospitality

06

_Outcast_

A thundercloud grew over him as days turned to weeks, slow and agonizing as Royce threw jabs at him during breakfast, when they bumped in the hallways, when they were so much as in the same facility, like the yard or maybe in the stables and he was going to break every fucking bone in that idiot's body if he spoke the _Killer Mutt _again.

"Derek?"

He turned to find Chloe peeking up at him, dressed in ratty jeans and a sweatshirt, hair pulled back into a ponytail. Wisps escaped and stuck to her temples and neck.

"What?" he bit out without meaning to and something in her eyes changed, growing hard and defiant.

"I thought you might need some help but since you're going to be an _asshole_ about it, then fine," she muttered and turned away.

_Her dark hair swayed in the invisible breeze as she turned away, ignoring his father. He could see the bruises his father had left on her arms as she hissed, "You asshole."_

"Derek?" Chloe hovered, looking nervous and frightened and so, so concerned, like she hadn't just called him an asshole. She didn't _have _the right to be concerned; nobody did.

So he drew himself up to his full height and said, lying, "I'm fine."

Maybe it was because he hesitated, or because he couldn't look her in the eyes but her mouth pinched and eyes told him that she didn't believe him one bit.

* * *

Every minute that passed was long and cold and bleak and lonely; he was staring up at the clock, watching the hands crawl in a slow fashion that was very torturous. Every breath was long and slow and he could count between each inhale and exhale.

1, 2.

Inhale.

3,4.

Exhale.

1,2.

Inhale.

_Tick. _

"You may go," Kit said, smiling that stupid fucking smile that made Derek feel worse on the inside than on the outside, like he was a monster just like Zachary, like he was _nothing. _

_W_hy did Kit have to try to talk to him about coming clean about Royce's harassment?

He slinked away, feeling lower than low; in the back of his brain, there were words and accusations. Bad memories.

"I just want you to know, Derek, that you'll always be son," Kit had said a few minutes ago, touching his hand, "and I do what I can to protect my kids. I don't care how powerful Royce is. If he's bothering you, tell me. Tell me and it'll end."

_I'm not your kid!_

"Derek?" It was Rae, dressed in a tight, glittery top and baggy cargo jeans, barreling around the corner.

"What?" he bit out harshly and a look akin to anger flashed across her pretty face, making him immediately question his ability to fend off her little slaps and kicks she undoubtedly would inflict with _really _getting too carried away and injuring her. Little to none.

"I _was_ gonna ask if you want to head to town with Chloe and I," she said, examing her way-too-long-to-be-real nails with a bored, bitchy expression and a pucker of her lips. Her hair was brushed back into an intricate braid and Derek found himself wondering how many different hairstyles a girl could do _just_ for going into town.

"Sure," he grunted and turned away, ignoring the breathless gasp of delight because, well, after all, she only wanted him because she got what she wanted. Only, this time, he wouldn't cave. Never.

* * *

The bite of cold stung his skin as he locked his truck and headed for the strip mall. On one side, Chloe was hurrying along, hunkering against the cold in her sweatshirt and jeans; on the other side, Rae was leisurely strolling like she owned the place, encouraging the cat calls with a few of her own, a flirty smile, a flip of her hair. They were polar opposites, Chloe and Rae.

Rae loved the attention and beamed at every cat call that came her way, striking poses and swaying her hips suggestively.

Chloe blushed bright red every time someone commented on her appearance and pulled her face further into her hoodie.

"W-we won't b-be too long," Chloe said through chattering teeth, pulling her hood closer around her face.

Derek nodded shortly as the tiny blonde started across the street, focus more on getting inside than on the loud catcalls their companion was getting.

Abruptly, two beams of light cut through the gloom and an engine revved loudly as a sleek, glossy sports car exploded out of the lot, streaking towards Chloe.

No time to think, to consider his options. No time to blink. No time to even be worried about his own safety. No time to consider the consequences. No time to think about what would happened if she hurt herself. No time to worry about the car.

He lunged forward, slamming into her back. The side of the tire brushed his heels and scraped against the bottoms of his work boots as the car roared passed them, fast as lightening. He could hear the wheels squealing against the pavement, loud and obnoxious as the driver raced on, like they _hadn't _just nearly hit Chloe.

The two of them just lay there for a long time, his heart pounding harshly against his chest, thump thump thumping and beating frantic and he was shaking, more than he liked to admit, his heart in his throat. He couldn't get enough hair, panting, his lungs expanding expanding and drinking in cool oxygen, filling him up like a balloon. He pushed himself up, arms shaking, trembling and trying to catch his breath and staring down into a snow-pale face and pale blonde eyebrows and eyelashes and soft freckles and wisps of baby-fine hair clinging to her wide forehead.

"Are you okay?" he rasped softly, lips sticking together as cold air punctuated him. Her lips trembled as she answered, eyes flying open and then he was drowning in her big, blue ocean blue sky blue sapphire blue eyes. It was like being slapped in the face with a fresh cup of water.

"Y-yeah," she lied through clenched teeth and he helped her to her feet and Rae was fuming, stomping her feet because it was too cold outside and she shoved passed them and Chloe tripped on the curb and Derek caught her.

He kept reminding himself that _no she's not really nice to feel against me_ and _god her skin is so soft and silky_ and _she smells like sugar_.

It was as Chloe darted into a brightly-lit store called Papaya that he caught sight of himself in the display case. Windows doubled his image and he saw a man with long hair and scuffed work boots, wearing the darkness in his gait like a cloak of invisibility.

He looked tall and dark and very bad, with the scars of acne gleaming on his cheeks and his scraped up knuckles.

But mostly, he looked like a strange with an outsider's eyes.

Sad, careful, angry eyes.


	7. Monster

Southern Hospitality

07

_Monster_

"He's bad news," whispered a woman behind them as Derek held a bag full of undergarments, red-faced as Chloe prattled about in a pre-teen store called Forever 21, darting in and out of the dressing rooms, carrying piles of clothes with her.

Something in his chest tightened as he glanced back discreetly, watching the women whispering behind their hands.

They were as opposite as can be but they both wore wedding bands and matching high school spirit t-shirts. They looked like they were trying too hard to be "hip".

Derek clenched his jaw.

"He's such a pervert, standing in a girl's store, holding a bag full of girls' _undergarments_," whispered the taller, looking at him with disgust.

"I'm s-sorry I to-ook so long," Chloe apologized breathlessly, rushing over to him, holding a bag of soft, downy shirts and jeans. Around her neck hung a pair of hiking boots, perfect for work on the farm.

"You got boots like I told you," he said, reaching down to pick them from her neck.

"Sweetie," one said, reaching out for Chloe.

She looked up, confusion flickering across her fairy face.

"Do you know this man?" asked the other, eyeballing Derek like he was a disease.

Maybe he was. He didn't know anymore; one minute, he was the good guy, helping with kids, fixing people's porches, the next he was a monster, the kind that molested children and killed puppies.

Chloe made a noise, looking both angry and embarrassed.

Heartbeats crawled by, slow and painful and he felt his breath freezing in his lungs.

"I do," she said clearly, meeting their eyes.

The women looked away. "Where are your parents? I'm sure there's a security guard somewhere. Kids shouldn't wander around with boys like him," the shorter one said.

"I'm fifteen," the tiny blonde pointed out flatly, two red spots coloring her cheeks.

Suddenly, two girls that looked about eleven darted up to them and began speaking rapid fire about some lingerie store. Thankfully, that diverted the women's attention.

After wandering around the second story floor for her, they found Rae in that exact store, actually, carrying several bags while texting on her phone, a secret smile crossing her dark lips. For a second, she looked pretty, a wholesome, natural sort. He could see why so many guys fell for her but she used her looks in an obvious, too-bold way for his tastes.

She stopped walking, staring at her phone screen, and several 12-15 year old boys ran into various objects like walls, poles, window displays. One guy tipped over a phone case display cart.

Her lips trembled and her eyebrows quivered, her eyes growing wet but then she looked up and saw them and any emotion, sadness or anger he couldn't tell the difference with her, was wiped clean and replaced with arrogance. "There you are," she sighed, waving a hand at them.

Her heels clicked.

Derek ducked his head and thought on the walk back, blocking out the cold air. _He's bad news. Such a pervert. Just like his old man. _A million words, spoken by a million different mouths, a million different people, people who didn't even _know _him.

It was as he checked his rear-view mirror that he realized something, not once had Chloe even _looked _in his direction since the women's comments. When he glanced in the mirror, he saw her blue eyes staring at him in a dazed manner and, when she was caught staring so openly, she turned away and focused her attention on showing Rae her new boots.

_Being ignored isn't anything new to me, _he told himself but, even as they drove down the expressway, he felt a dark sadness twist and flourish, like a black flower.

* * *

The house smelled like Chinese food when they got home. With so many bags, Derek decided he'd just take them up, much to the appreciation of the girls.

Rae gave him an flirty smile and Chloe nodded thanks.

_Still being ignored it seems, _he mused as he headed up the stairs.

A blast of warm air washed away the summer night chill and he pushed open Chloe's door, setting her bags on her pillows. Her room was moderately clean, the only thing on the floor was a pair of torn jeans stained with chocolate sauce from making dessert last night. It was as he left that he noticed it. She'd tacked up pictures of everyone, even the _animals_, up on her board. The only person that wasn't up there was him.

Rae's room was a disaster of lacy things he wasn't sure could've been considered underwear and push up bras; he picked his way precariously through the mess and wondered if he fell and was swallowed up by the giant clothing pile if anyone would notice he was gone. Probably not, to be honest. He dumped Rae's stuff and decided to shower.

His brain was too full of memories of hurt and fear and anger and he felt overwhelmed, clawing at imaginary water as he drowned. _You don't need water to feel like you're drowning, _he realized as he stumbled into his room and slammed the door. Fumbled with the lock with shaking, thick fingers. Monster hands. Hands that hurt and have been hurt; he was too much like his father as far as looks were concerned.

Same black hair, same pale skin, same lips, jaw, and acne-pocketed cheeks. He stared at the mirror, looking at himself from different angles. When he looked at his left side, he looked like Derek, normal, kind-of-grumpy Derek, good and a bit rough but nice enough; he looked right and he saw the monster that everyone saw, angry eyes and angry smiles and angry words, lips forming half-spoken lies.

Something shattered. Footsteps thumped. Derek stared at the shards littering the floor, at the blood on his hand, deep cuts gushing.

"Derek?" It was Tori, sounded unusually worried.

"Fine," he muttered, stepping away from the glass. His hand looked a bit mangled. Suddenly, he was exhausted and tired and his mouth tasted gritty.

He peeled off his clothes, wrapped up his hand and turned out the lights.

"Derek, are you okay?" whispered Kit.

Derek crawled under the cool, rustling sheets and closed his eyes. His hand was throbbing. He felt sick and gross and he just wanted to sleep for a little while.

He needed a blank space to fill up his mind and take away the frightening memories. He didn't want to be Derek Souza anymore.


	8. Protect

Southern Hospitality

08

_Protect_

Rae and Royce were trying to eat each other's faces when Derek walked downstairs to scavenge breakfast.

He watched them out of the corner of his eye and something hot and familiar burned inside his chest, blossoming fast and furious; Royce flashed him a swollen grin, Rae latching onto his neck like a vampire. "Get a room," Derek growled, retreating into pantry to pull out a box of Fruit Loops.

Royce laughed hysterically, stroking Rae's coppery braids softly, meeting Derek's green eyes across the table.

Derek turned away, disgusted. _They have no decency, _he thought dimly as he poured the cereal, his cheeks burning viciously.

"Good morning," sighed a soft, dreamy voice and he turned, finding a sleep-tossed Chloe shuffling in, hair sticking up.

"Morning," he muttered back, eyes lingering too long on her pale, smooth legs.

"Where are the bowls?"

He gestured in the directions of the cupboards above the sink and turned away to get the milk from the fridge. When he turned back, however, a lump of air caught in his throat. Being short as she was, Chloe stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach a bowl; her oversized sleep shorts crept high on her thighs and he quickly pulled his eyes away, instead crossing the kitchenette and steadying her, a hand on her hip, trying hard not to relish in her soft skin as her tank top twisted away from her shorts; he could hear the hitch in her breath as he pulled down a small bowl for her.

When she spun around, her baby blue eyes were wide and framed by long, pale-blonde lashes, reminding him of a doll Tori had once, especially with that lovely blush staining across her cheekbones. "T-thank you," she squeaked.

His lips started to peel up so he shrugged and hid his face in the fridge, pretending to look for the milk.

"The milk's right here," sneered a voice.

Dark anger poured down his back as he turned, adjusting himself so Chloe was hidden behind him.

Liam leaned against the doorway, looking bored and half-high, red-rimmed eyes blinking slow and mockingly; the curl of his stubble-enclosed mouth made Derek bristle.

"_Hello_," he purred when he caught sight of Chloe, a feral smile replacing the hazy smirk.

She froze where she was, gripping the bowl with a white-knuckled grip.

Derek calmly placed himself between the two of them and said, "Long time no see, Liam."

"You too, mutt," shot back Liam, canines flashing in the light. He looked dangerous and risky in this light; Derek, if he squinted, could see the boy who left slaughtered animals on the porch so he could find them, who loved the pain and suffering of those around him, before his dad died in a car accident.

Chloe looked like a lost mouse, quaking where she stood, pale like clouds and eggshells, fear lighting up her cerulean eyes. Head ducked down, she hurried over to Derek and perched beside him, balancing her bowl overturned on her knees, trying hard to look like she wasn't terrified. Before he could stop himself, he laid a hand on her leg and felt the goosebumps there, her tiny leg quivering under his palm. His thumb pushed circles.

"Oh! Liam!" Rae's melodic voice cooed and the greasy-haired boy loped away, smiling like the cat that got the cream _and _the canary.

A hot, foul taste filled Derek's mouth as he watched Rae balance herself between Liam and Royce, batting her long eyelashes.

Chloe trembled under his hand like a leaf, eyes squeezed shut; she sat as still as possible.

"It's okay," he said to her, peeling his gaze away from the trio on the couch.

Rae's laugh vibrated in annoying vibrato.

Liam's short bray followed like a duckling.

"I don't like him," she whispered softly, peering up at him with trusting eyes, looking ashen in the face and flushed at the cheeks.

"I don't know anyone who does," Derek answered, pulling his hand away from her leg to fix the place mat, eyeballing Liam's smirk from the table.

There was a triumphant look in his steely eyes that made Derek bristle.

* * *

The panic hit him suddenly and unexpectedly. A vice clamped down on his lungs and tightened, inch by inch; his ribs creaked in response. Bile rose and filled his throat, hot and acidic; the next wave sent him reeling backwards onto the floor, sharp pain bursting behind his eyes.

He needed to get somewhere safe, where he could lock the door behind himself and curl up until the pain went away. He swallowed hard and the bile fell back down to his churning, angry stomach; sweat peppered his forehead and temples, dripping down his face in a hot cascade. He forced himself to his feet, and braced his hands on either side of the hallway, making his way slowly. The pain was getting worse, nearly crippling him. Blood burst as he bit through his lip and it filled his mouth with the familiar sharp tang of backhands to the face and broken jaws and knocked teeth.

His knees knocked together in what could've been a very comedic way had it not been for the panic attack; every breath caught at the end, not enough air getting into his lungs, and a familiar dizzying panic filled him from the toes up, cold and icy, like drugs being slid into his veins to make him sleep.

He spotted the bathroom door and some of his strength returned; stumbling with numb legs, he managed to paw open the door and it swung open. He didn't notice the lights were on or the air was muggy from a shower; he just collapsed onto his knees and kicked the door shut with a slam. Fingers shaking, he reached up, muscles quivering, and locked it.

_Finally, _he thought as he slumped against the cool, painted wood, his body trembling fiercely with the force of the tremors; memories exploded behind his closed lids and a little sound escaped him as he pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth to keep from screaming, blood dripping down his chin.

It took him a minute to become composed enough to realize he wasn't alone.

Derek looked up and his mouth dropped.

Chloe stood in front of him, hugging her towel tight against her nakedness, damp hair sticking her cheeks.

"Wh-wh-a-at are you d-doing in h-here?" she asked, her face resembling a rose as she blushed furiously.

He opened his mouth to reply but another wave of pain slammed into the back of his head like a brick.

He curled up on his side and clutched his head; it was all he could do to keep his head from exploding all over the place.


	9. Unearthed

Southern Hospitality

09

_Unearthed_

It was hours before the pain faded enough as to allow him to sit up and get to his feet.

Behind him, Chloe had changed into a tank top and sweats, wide-eyed with damp hair dripping a trail down her back. "Wh-what—"

"Panic attack," he whispered, studying his sallow face in the mirror. Blood had dried and flaked on his lip and chin and he closed his eyes, exhausted. He looked like hell.

"P-panic a-at-tack?" Chloe echoed, twisting her hair at the base of her neck and securing it in a bun, wisps escaping and sticking to her damp skin. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, pale skin and pale eyes.

Derek pulled away from the sink to crumble to the floor. His lip was throbbing now and he touched it tentatively, hissing. Ignoring her, he opened the linen closet and pulled out a clean washcloth. "It's…I've had them for years," he admitted quietly, running the water. His hair was damp and his face pallor, more so than usual. He looked sickly, with dark bags under his eyes and his bloodstained lips.

"I've never seen a-a panic attack like that," she was saying somewhere behind him as he wrung out the excess water and gently began to rub the blood off.

He winced with each pass of fabric on his cut but clenched his jaw when he saw Chloe looking through a first aid kit, sitting crossed legged on the toilet seat.

"You've never seen a guy like me before," he muttered.

Her eyes stopped looking but her hands kept moving, shifting and redistributing supplies. "I haven't," she murmured in reply, her eyes rising to meet his in the reflection. She looked so determined that he faltered.

"But that doesn't mean you can't trust me. I'm schizophrenic; I know what it's like to go through an episode of that intensity. Tell me why you have panic attacks so bad that you can't move for hours and bite through your lip several times. I noticed the scars," she told him.

"It's a long story," he said, surprising himself as he continued to clean his lip gently.

She startled him by dropping the box unceremoniously on the floor, hugging herself to keep warm after she picked it up sheepishly with a grin. "I'm all e-ears."

Keeping his eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror, leaning against the linen closet behind him, he started softly. "I'm not really a part of this family. I…I was adopted, when I was eleven. Before that, I lived with my dad."

"I kind of figured you were adopted, Derek. You look nothing like Kit or Tori or Simon. You may not look like them but you love them regardless." There was something faraway in her voice.

"Zachary Cain wasn't a nice man, by all accounts. He was charming and handsome, yes, but that hid a darker part of his personality that few had seen but all heard of. As for me, he was a frighteningly convincing liar; a very angry one at that. For every bruise he gave me, there was a lie so realistic that everyone fell for it. My mother left Zachary by the time I turned three."

She smiled weakly. "My mother died when I was thirteen."

He looked into her sky eyes and saw a familiar sadness inside them, turning them dark like the ocean.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, watching her face.

Her cheeks were turning red. "I-it's okay," she said, looking away quickly.

"Anyway, I stayed there until I was eleven, when Kit worked as a social worker and whisked me away to live with them. But by then, the damage was done. I was royally fucked up; I couldn't socialize and I didn't even fully realize how bad it was until I turned thirteen. I kind of freaked when the first batch of city kids got dropped off."

"Freaked?"The first aid kit was balanced carefully on her thigh as she twisted to face him, her body leaning towards him.

His lip burned as he tenderly smeared Neosporin across the cut, hissing.

"After they were dropped off, the girls stuck with Tori and Simon took some of the boys. I got stuck with Royce and his goons," he muttered.

"R-Royce?" Her voice trembled.

"Yeah," he rasped out, lip burning still. "I wasn't used to the people, so I ran inside, panicking. Locked myself in the room for most of the day. I had my first panic attack then, and it went on for hours. I'm pretty sure I blacked out, because the next thing I knew, I was staring up at the hospital ceiling. Kit was freaked out as hell because my lip was a bloody mess and they had to put like fifty stitches in it. Simon thought it was cool." He shook his head. "Like being so overwhelmed with fear and anxiety that you can't breathe and your brain is leaking out of your ears and your heart will stop beating at any minute is cool." Sneering at his reflection, Derek pressed his tongue against the inside of his teeth.

A thoughtful look crept over her doll-like features. "Was he mad about you staying in your room?" she asked, glancing at him curiously.

"No, not really. He was more worried about my health. And that's why I have panic attacks. From a young age, Zachary Cain taught me that pain would be my only companion in life. Pain motivates, pain pushes your limits, and pain keeps you together." He swallowed hard.

"Zachary Cain sounds famil—"

"He's the Sacramento Slasher. His body count is an estimated two hundred that we know about; there's probably three hundred more unknown."

Her pale face reddened when someone knocked on the door and snapped, "Hurry up, Chloe. Why do you have to take so damn long?"

_Rae. _

Before the blonde could so much as blink, Derek strode to the door and braced himself.

He threw open the door and met Rae's wide, surprised eyes. "What do you want?" he demanded in a quiet voice.


	10. Sweet

Southern Hospitality

10

_Sweet_

Rae's slanted, dark eyes went round, staring at him in shock, and maybe a little bit of horror. When she saw Chloe, rage twisted her pretty features into a gargoyle. "What's _she _doing here?" she spat, "and what happened to your lip?"

"Nothing," Derek muttered, touching his cut tentatively. His brain was sluggish, chugging through bloodstained memories. He took a deep breath to steady himself and placed a hand on the door-frame, gripping it tightly; the edge pressed into his palm and it made him focus.

"Oh, I _know_." A sneaky smile spread across her strawberry-red mouth and it made him sick looking at it.

He turned his eyes to Chloe, who was holding the first aide kit against her chest, wide-eyed and terrified, her face colorless.

"W-What?" she squeaked, stepping forward a bit and resting a hand on Derek's arm.

Rae sneered at the sight.

"You go after little girls like her, right? She's fourteen, you know that right?" Her big, dark eyes glared up at him, framed by her coppery braids.

Derek swallowed hard.

"L-liar. I turned fifteen in April," Chloe said quietly, backing up quickly when Rae's bared teeth swung her way, peeling back even further than before, revealing rose-pink gums and a piercing on the front connective tissue between her front teeth.

"It's not my fault you can't tell how old you are," she snapped, flipping her braids before she turned and stalked away.

Derek watched her leave, stomping down the stairs with the grace of an agitated toddler.

"S-she really hates me," Chloe whispered quietly and he turned to her, taking in her ashy face and round, pale eyes.

"I don't like her particularly," he replied, reaching for the first aide kit and gripping Chloe's shoulder instead.

She carefully maneuvered him in front of the toilet.

When he began to sway, he sat down and blinked away the dizziness as Chloe began to clean up his chin.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and made his head pound as his eyes watered.

"Derek, Rachelle—" Kit began but stopped mid-sentence as Chloe carefully wiped away the glob of Neosporin dangling on Derek's chin and gently spread a thin layer.

"Is a vindictive bitch?" Derek answered, wincing at Chloe's cold fingers gently applying the gauze and tape. "Hate to break it to you but I'm pretty sure everyone knows that by now. She hasn't exactly tried to hide it," he said calmly, staring down at Chloe as she carefully washed her hands.

The tips of her ears slowly turned red, indicating her embarrassment as Kit's world wise brown eyes blinked. His mouth flapped open and closed.

"Besides," he continued, eyes on Chloe, "I think she just wants to get me in trouble for-"

"Royce?" Kit cut in, putting words in his mouth.

He glared.

When Chloe leaned down, her shirt fell away from her collarbone and he saw the necklace she kept tucked under it, a golden chain with a red pendant, gleaming like blood.

His face heated and he quickly turned his eyes to hers, only to find her staring at him.

"Rae doesn't like anyone she can't sleep with," she said flatly.

He rose and gripped the edge of the sink for leverage when his knee locked up. Grimacing, he stretched it out slowly and winced as it popped back into the normal position. "Side effect from being a monster's son," he muttered and headed out.

* * *

"Derek!" It was Ramon, a side-hand that came down during the first week of summer each year, wide-eyed, his hands covered in something wet. He was soaked with sweat, his grey tank top clinging to his skin and his jeans covered with soil, his face streaked with it.

Derek blinked as he reached for his jacket, shrugging it on.

"What happened?" he asked as he took in his friend's pallor face and flushed neck.

"The foals…" the Russian boy breathed.

Derek had been sitting on his bed but he rushed to his feet, ignoring the head rush and yanked on his boots.

"Show me."

* * *

Chloe was already there, kneeling in the hay, stroking the horse's neck gently, and whispering under her breath.

Derek could see a set of legs peeking out of the horse and knelt down beside her, rubbing her swollen belly. "It's okay, Theo," he murmured, kissing her nose as she breathed heavily.

"What's wrong?" he asked Chloe.

"The foal isn't coming out."

He peeled off his coat and pulled his hair back with a hair band, twisting it into a messy bun. He maneuvered behind her and stroked her flank, feeling the heat coming off the legs. He braced himself and gripped the ankles, pulling slowly.

Chloe comforted the horse.

In a rush of liquid, the first foal flopped out; he grabbed the next set of legs and guided out the next one. They lay there in motionless heaps, surrounded by amniotic fluid, steam peeling off them in wisps.

Ramon knelt down and wiped them down with a towel, watching as they came alive, slowly; two pairs of eyes slowly opened and their chests rose and fell. Ramon took his leave quietly.

Derek helped them find their mother and let them feed in peace, Theo falling asleep exhausted.

Chloe glowed as she chattered on the walk back to the house; she shivered in the cold air.

Shaking his head at her, he unzipped his jacket and placed it over her shoulders; the cool air whipped at his skin, the light rain cooling down his overheated skin.

"Chloe?"

She peered up at him from behind red streaked bangs; her cheeks flushed pink and rosy under her freckles. "Yes?"

"About…earlier today—when I told you—No one can know. Not Kit, not Simon, not Tori, no one. You're actually the first person I told."

He crammed his shaking hands into his pockets as the rain plastered his shirt to his back and his hair to his neck.

"A-are th-those…on your back…" she began softly.

"Like I said, I didn't have a great childhood." He shrugged.

"From a young age, Zachary Cain taught me that pain would be my only companion in life. Pain motivates, pain pushes limits, and pain keeps you together. That's w-what you s-said," she murmured.

"It was how I was raised," he muttered, kicking off his muddy boots onto the porch.

"Derek?"

He turned, barely registering her leaning up on tiptoes to kiss his sweaty cheek.

"I don't think you're a monster. I think y-you're r-re-really sweet." When she pulled away, a blush devoured her face.

She headed inside quickly and left him standing there in the rain, touching his cheek softly over and over; her lips burned his skin in the most delicious way.

He ducked inside and crept to his room, quietly knocking on Chloe's door. "Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow, for helping me with the foals. Ramon will be there, too." When her big, blue eyes met his, he felt his stomach pull tight and his pulse skip.

"G-goodni-ight, Derek," she whispered, giving him a sleepy smile.

She was beautiful.

"Goodnight, Chloe," he replied and walked to his room with shaking legs. He closed the door behind him and slowly stripped, mind turning over a new possibility.

_She isn't that bad.  
_


	11. Dinner

Southern Hospitality

11

_Dinner_

They went to a local pizza place for dinner.

Since Derek knew the area better than her and could actually drive, he drove Chloe.

"E-everyone's staring," she whispered in surprise as he helped her out of the car and with a glance around, he saw she was right. People in the small town always seemed to be on edge whenever he came in but mostly he ignored it.

"They've always been afraid of me," he muttered, closing the truck door gently.

Her blonde brows drew together. She looked adorable, sucking in her lower lip and her eyes turned down to watch her feet. "It's not right," she said abruptly. "What have you done to make them treat you this way?" A fire gleamed in her baby blues and he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. I'm big enough and scary enough that rumors fly without me having to do anything," he answered flatly.

Chloe hopped up onto the sidewalk and shook her head. "Still," she tried to push on but he just gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and blew out a sigh.

His body was thrumming with energy, hyper-aware of her presence, her hair tickling his arm, her sweet floral perfume invading his lungs, her quiet voice murmuring nonstop chatter, her body heat against his side.

When he looked in the window as they passed a bakery, he thought they looked like a couple. She looked beautiful, her curls gleaming like spun gold, her lips moving; he looked dangerous, his hair blacker than a crow's feather, his mouth set a thin line.

They looked like they didn't belong together at all.

* * *

The restaurant was mildly busy and he immediately spotted Ramon flagging them down, a smile lighting up his normally sallow face. "Hello," he said pleasantly with another smile, shaking Derek's hand like he was Chloe's father.

Beside Ramon was a dark-haired boy with long eyelashes and freckles all over his face. "I'm Peter. I've heard so much about you from Ramon. What was it like to birth the foals with Derek? None of us can believe you two are together. Well, I kind of can, but you know. I never thought you'd actually…" He voice trailed off as Derek zoned out.

"We aren't," Derek snapped, ignoring the hurt look Chloe shot him. _Chloe would never date a monster like you, _he told himself.

* * *

The entrees were huge and Chloe didn't eat even half of hers, going wide-eyed when she saw the boys calmly eat theirs in one sitting. "Want mine?" she asked, nudging Derek in the side.

He shrugged. "Take it in a box," he said, taking a long sip.

"I have to pee," Peter announced and stood, taking Chloe's pink elbow in his tan hand. "You're coming with." Peter had a glint in his eyes that Derek didn't really care for but if Chloe didn't seem threatened, he didn't see the need to point it out.

He watched them leave, elbow in elbow, Peter tall and broad and tan, Chloe short and thin and pale, heads bent together as they spoke about God knew what. He sighed heavily.

"She does, you know," Ramon said suddenly, pulling Derek's attention away from the way Chloe's tights accented her thighs.

"What?" he barked out and several heads turned their way. Scowling, he took a sip of soda.

"She likes you. More than you know." Ramon's easy going smile was gentle and had a certain wise quality about it that made Derek want to believe him. But, still, his doubt won out in the end.

"No, she doesn't. Remember? I'm the town's local bastard. Girls don't like guys like me," he sneered, ignoring Ramon's eyes staring passed him.

"Some girls like 'guys like you'."

He twisted around and his heart skipped a beat to see Chloe standing behind him, her lips pursed as she squinted up at him. "I don't think you're a bastard," she continued, her voice firm as she stepped closer and closer. Her blue eyes looked like oceans. "And I _do _like you." She suddenly smiled. "So doubt me all you want, Derek."

"Who's paying? I forgot my wallet at home." Peter's soft, demure voice drifted from behind them.

"Do you think this is a joke?" Derek asked tightly, fighting to keep his voice level as his irritation spiked to anger.

Peter's blinked his lynx eyes at Derek, confusion written across his face. In the lynx eyes, he saw truth. "What are you talking about?"

Derek turned back to Chloe and his heart nearly exploded when she wrapped both arms around him in a hug.

People around them gasped, whispered.

Ramon let out a snort.

Peter giggled.

Chloe was flushed in the face when she pulled away. "So," she said abruptly, wide-eyed as she fixed her hair, "do you believe me?"

He glanced down at the table, then at her, then at the table again, and shook his head. "You're crazy," he told her.

Her face fell.

"But you're the good kind." She was grinning now, her eyes shining like clear blue waters.

As they left, the townspeople whispered behind them. Derek caught a glimpse of Peter and Ramon heading towards the opposite street, to some frozen yogurt place, and smiled.

Chloe walked beside Derek, quiet but a smile on her face. Taking himself by surprise, he reached down for her hand and slid his fingers into hers.

The sun was setting and the sky was a myriad of colors, blue and purple bleeding into each other, pink giving way to red, orange fading into yellow. The sun dipped behind the skyline and all the sky was a clash of beautiful, pastel colors. He glanced down at Chloe and saw the colors reflected in her big, black pupils.

He looked at the store window as they crossed the street and thought, _now we look like a couple. _For once, they didn't look so utterly unmatched. His mouth stung at the memory of her lips.

In his reflection, he smiled a tiny bit. He swore it was a fluke.


	12. Visitation

Southern Hospitality

12

_Visitation_

Nervously, Derek adjusted his tie and he watched Chloe's fingers stroke the fabric of his tie tenderly, unable to miss the shaking in her hands. Derek quirked his mouth at her and she blushed brighter than a cherry, her eyes wide and innocent; he couldn't help the chuckle that rose. "It'll be fine," he told her, rubbing a gentle hand along her back.

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a profanity when a car honked outside.

A black SUV had pulled up and, if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the long, tapered fingers of Chloe's aunt gripping the steering wheel.

"Take a deep breath, okay?" He squeezed her shoulder and she laughed, the anxiety fading from her baby blues.

"Okay," she replied, smoothing down the front of her sundress carefully and meticulously fluffing her hair.

His hand wrapped around the doorknob and he pushed the door open, letting the dogs bound out and sniff the new car.

The driver door popped open and Libby yelped, wiggling backwards.

A tall, gaunt woman stepped out, red-brown hair piled into a bun at the top of her skull as she flicked up her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose. The woman was dressed in a striking pantsuit with straps winding around her throat, holding up the top half, her heels clicking.

"Aunt Lauren!" Chloe called and he watched her hair bounce as she hopped down the steps and embrace the peculiar woman.

Swallowing passed the anxious lump in his throat, Derek closed the door behind him and slowly made his way over.

"Derek, my aunt, Aunt Lauren, Derek. His dad owns the ranch," the blonde explained with a wide, megawatt smile.

"It's very nice to meet you," Lauren said in a cool, crisp voice, her blue-grey eyes assessing him in a calm, unnerving manner.

"It's a pleasure." Derek awkwardly waited for her to extend her hand but settled for nodding his head at hert, lest she think him rude. He may not have been the most polite guy when working on the ranch but meeting a cute girl's aunt was top priority and he was pulling out the stops. "My father is inside, if you'd like to meet him." He turned away and was up onto the porch in two steps. "This way, Dr. Fellows," he offered, holding the door open.

Chloe shot him a warm smile.

Lauren's cool face never broke.

"Oh. It's you," Kit said, glancing up sharply as he brushed off his button down. He did not extend his hand.

"I wish I could say it's nice to see you again, Christopher," Lauren replied stiffly.

Confusion welded up inside Derek. "You two know each other, I take it?" His voice came out scratchy as Chloe flitted to his side, tucking herself against his side.

Lauren's cold eyes narrowed. "Indeed. He, Jennifer, Steve, Zachary and myself were all in the same graduating class," she explained smoothly, her hands pressing out any wrinkled in her pant legs.

He felt lightheaded.

"Za...chary?" Chloe echoed Derek's sentiment.

"Yes." Lauren paused, cold eyes piercing him. "His father, Zachary Cain."

"Isn't he—" Chloe began.

"A serial killer?" Lauren leaned against the counter languidly, smiling sardonically but her eyes remained fastened to the green ones. "Yes, he is," she murmured, more to him than to her niece, "and he was the _most _charming one I've ever encountered. On the surface, he was charming and handsome; however, bubbling underneath was a violent rage that terrified everyone who knew his wrath." She crossed her arms, her collarbone protruding. Her harsh gaze never faltered. "Of course, I treated your mother. I had my suspicions when she came in with bruises and broken bones. They were only confirmed when she knocked on my door all those years ago, cradling you in her arms, babbling about something Zachary had done to you."

"Shut up," he whispered as memories flooded him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and forcing him to his knees. Bleary-eyed, he pushed himself to his feet and swayed where he stood. His stomach clenched when he saw the bored expression on Lauren's gaunt face but there was a fire alive in her eyes. _Just like him, _he thought and stepped back. "Get out," he hissed, drawing himself to his full height.

"Der—"

"I _won't _be reminded of what that bastard did to me. I know you all see me as–as that monster's son and I know that's what I am." Something in his gut seized at her stormy look.

"Now get out." It was Chloe who said it this time, startling her aunt.

"Chloe, I know his father. That man is a _menace._" _Know. _She said _know. _

"Know?" he echoed dryly, feeling a dam burst inside him. A cold chill drifted down his spine, sinking claws into his skin. Perspiration rolled down his face.

"As in he's still _here_?" He couldn't help the way his voice deepened, growing rough.

Lauren's calm expression faltered, realization dawning in her cool eyes and she pushed off the counter, standing taller than Kit. She looked like she was about to say something when the doorbell rang, the sound echoing throughout the house. By the pale look on her face, she'd done something.

Cold dread filled his hands as he fumbled for the door, taking a minute to collect himself.

When he opened the front door, he froze. Every nerve exploded in a shattering flurry of ice and pain as he stared up at the incredibly tall man; he was all shoulders, nearly blotting out the sun. His short-cropped black hair clung to his skull, so close he looked like a skinhead or prison inmate. His face was gaunt, his brutally sharp cheekbones cutting harsh lines, his jaw covered in stubble. Derek struggled to breathe as the man looked up from his Blackberry, thumb pausing mid keystroke. A smile broke out across his face, nearly splitting it in two halves.

Derek dug his nails into the door, barely registering the people behind him. "Derek Souza, don't you recognize your own father?" the man asked with a huge grin that didn't reach his black eyes. He looked smart in his black suit and loafers; maybe he just came from a business meeting of killing people with his secret organization of other killers.

"Lauren, Christopher." Zachary Cain's smile faltered when he spotted Chloe. "Jennifer?"

"Wrong," Derek growled and moved back, flexing his muscles to slam the door in Cain's stupid face.

"That…that was—" Chloe started but a loud slam interrupted her.

Derek had closed the door right in his father's face. "Tell me why _he's _here before I tear out your throat," he snarled and spotted the unadulterated fear on Lauren's pale face. Even Kit looked shaken by his actions.

_Tough_, he thought darkly as he turned his dark eyes to Lauren, who looked shell-shocked. "Explain."

She took a deep breath and her stony gaze met his as she fixed her expression to cold, detached. "I invited him."

Derek didn't even register his hand hitting the door nor the glass crunching.


	13. Memoir

Southern Hospitality

13

_Memoir_

Derek stared down at his swollen, gushing hand blankly, barely recognizing his mangled fingers as his own. He faintly registered Chloe whispering frantically, her smooth, damp hands trailing his arms, his neck, cradling his cheeks; he blinked when his head was tilted up.

She looked so beautiful with her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, even if he was the cause of her distress.

"Sorry," he apologized automatically, mechanically, flexing his hand and wincing when pain flared, every nerve ending catching fire and burning slowly.

"I didn't think you'd be that stupid," Lauren said, looking up from her mug of coffee.

Cain was looking startled, absently, like it didn't really faze him that Derek had stuffed his hand through three inches of glass because of him.

"Okay, explain this to me _again_," Kit ordered, never faltering in sweeping up the shards of glass littering the space before the front door with a broom, moving smoothly and calmly like his son hadn't punched a glass door. "_You—"_ he pointed to Lauren "—invited _him_—" Cain hardly blinked "—to _my _house so you could meet _my _son? What exactly did you hope to accomplish?" His voice was sharp and collected as he turned his almond eyes to Lauren.

"He's volatile," she stated, hardly daring to sneak a glance at the green-eyed boy in question, "and this _proves _it. If one thing like seeing his father sets him off and he shoves his goddamn hand through a goddamn door, than who's to say he won't turn his hand to my daughter?" Her steely eyes never wavered as she set down her mug.

Cain's clicking thumbs paused, a corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "I would _never _hit Chloe," he hissed as his brain flooded with a million memories—the ridges of a belt digging into his back, his broken arm and bruises, his fourth birthday present including a bottle being smashed over his head, his mother screaming and crying and begging Cain to stop, his mother's head hitting the wall when he socked her—and he clenched his swollen hand into a fist.

"Niece." Chloe's voice was quiet, a whisper almost.

Cain's eyebrows rose, making the tattoos on his head wiggle and squirm.

Derek tried not to heave, forcing quick pants through his nose and fiercely choosing to ignore the churning in his stomach.

She stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder, her nails biting.

When he peeked a glance, he saw her clenched jaw and a tendon in her throat pounding with her pulse. A curl fell across her shoulder. "_Niece_, Aunt Lauren. I'm not your daughter."

"O-of course," the steel-eyed woman babbled, looking for once a little wide-eyed but otherwise unaffected.

"Please, leave my house," Kit stated calmly to Cain, "you're causing my son distress and I'll be forced to take legal action if you continue to stay." The way he leaned against the broom, his body angled, chin propped up on his crossed forearms, struck Derek as predatory, a snake lazily preparing to strike.

Cain's smile was forced and brittle. "What's so wrong with getting to my son—"

Something crashed to the floor.

Derek turned and spotted Tori, her dark eyes wide in surprise as her hairspray sputtered on the hardwood floor. "Son?" Her lips peeled back in a sneer and he recognized her Attack Mode position: shoulders hunched, torso protruding, fists clenched as she stalked into the room purposefully. "Your _son_?" She spat again, her voice rising and rising with her unfurling rage. "How _dare _you call him _your **son **_after what you did to him, you son of a motherfucking bitch? You have some nerve, you awful, sick asshole! You better get that giant-ass head of yours out of your tight little ass before I beat the shit out of you!"

Derek's head pounded.

"You deserve to rot in _jail_, you sicko. Derek and Agitha didn't deserve your shit, didn't deserve to be tossed around like pieces of trash and beaten when you were too angry to go do something productive with it!" He didn't realize she knew what he'd been through.

"Beaten?" Kit obviously found his voice.

Derek tried to speak, to breathe, but all that came up was bile…right onto Cain's expensive shoes. Somehow, he didn't feel all that bad about puking all over the ex-con's shoes, even if Lauren was watching him with wide eyes and an expression of horror and surprise.

He mentally cheered at the sight of Cain's horrified and angry face, a vein in his forehead throbbing.

* * *

They were talking, Derek surmised absently as he wiped off his dry, hot mouth.

"I'm sorry," Chloe murmured, staring at him with sad, blue eyes and hugging herself. She looked fragile like that, a doll with cascading curls and sadness written across her face.

"Don't be," he lied but she shook her head.

The conversation in the kitchen between Lauren, Cain and Kit was getting louder, nearly a screaming match.

His brain short-circuited. He was gone, his memory exploding into reality: _"Shut up!" Cain roared as his arm flew out, catching Agitha Souza in the throat. Weakly sputtering, she fell to her knees. The arguing continued, although her voice was far quieter than her husband's._

_ "I'm going to leave you, you bastard," she hissed, kicking her legs out when he loomed above her, "and I'm taking my son with me!" _

_Cain grabbed her leg and yanked hard, pulling her close. "You are my wife, and your job is sit and look pretty," he snarled as her face cracked under his fist. _

_Meanwhile, Derek was crouched under the table, hidden by the long tablecloth, and watched in horror as his father slammed his fist over and over into his mother's pretty face. Blood ran down her chin, bubbling out from broken teeth as she gurgled and fought and clawed. He hit her head over and over into the linoleum floor until she slumped. When her head turned, her green shell-shocked eyes met his._

"Derek?" He blinked and he was back in the present, Chloe kneeling before him, Kit behind her. Simon was hovering at the door.

Derek caught a glimpse of Royce's sneering face. "Nothing," he murmured.


	14. Peace

Southern Hospitality

14

_Peace_

After Lauren and Cain left, he drove to the local Patient First, and sat for thirty minutes while his hand swelled and throbbed. The doctor and nurse that treated him told him he'd broken four of those little bones in his hand and the doctors wrapped it all nice and clean in a cast.

"Be careful," the nurse advised him while handling his hand like he was a Leper, familiar disgust and fear in her eyes.

He pretended not to notice the stares as he walked to the car, keeping his arms at his side. His hand throbbed in its little, clean cast, wrapped up tight as he carefully got into his car. _Ignore them, _he told himself fiercely, _they don't matter. _

Somehow, he managed to drive home without jarring his bad hand too badly. When he pulled into the driveway, he saw Chloe sitting on the steps, fiddling with something in her hands. He paused before hitting the brakes and turning off the ignition.

She glanced up at him, curls in her eyes, and a smile lit up her face, making her baby blues glow. She reminded him of a puppy, excited for a treat. She bounced up, curls bouncing, and he was struck by how thin she was; sure, he'd always known but until then, it wasn't really something he ever noticed. Her legs were thin, almost unhealthy, and when her feet touched, her thighs didn't touch. Her collarbone protruded from pallor, freckled skin and dark shadows bruised the fragile bones of her thin wrists and cheeks. It was almost frightening to see how little she looked in an oversized shirt and skin-tight leggings.

She bounded up to the side of the car and practically vibrated beside him, rocking on her heels. "How did it go? Is your hand okay?" she asked the minute he opened the door. Her eyes searched his for a second, cheeks scarlet, before they dropped down to his cast-encased hand. "Oh my god," she blurted, eyes wide and a hand clapped against her mouth in surprise.

"Broke some bones. Nothing big." To his surprise, his mouth started to curl up into a smile and his turned his face away to grab his keys and the painkillers. When his boots touched the pavement, Chloe stepped back and, once more, he was awestruck by her appearance.

The setting sun haloed down onto her golden curls, highlighting each individual strand, the sharp cheekbones, the hollows of her collarbone. Her eyes looked ever blue, endless, framed by sunlight brush bristles. The dusting of freckles stood out painful, popping in HD. Her spider fingers tapped against her knuckles, catching his attention to what was between her palms, crushed.

"What's that?" he asked as he nudged the door closed with his hip. The truck rocked from side to side a little bit before it settled back down.

Chloe muttered something to herself. "It's for you. It's…uh…just something…" The blush that colored her cheeks was dripping down the rest of her face, down her jaw, down her neck, and from his vantage point, he could see it easily slipped down her chest as well.

Clearing his throat, he took it gently from her fingers, wedging and prying it away. The pink envelope crackled, radio interference loud. "Thanks."

"S-so how long will t-the cast stay on?" She was picking for conversation, twisting the ends of her hair together nervously as they made their way up the stairs.

He pulled open the screen door and watched her walk in. Her shoulders were tense and he could smell her stress from a mile away (figuratively of course, he wasn't a werewolf) as he dumped his keys into his pocket and the painkillers on the table. _She needs a little cheering up, _he thought as he turned on his heel. He knew the perfect place.

"Chloe, let's go."

He didn't wait to see if she'd follow; somehow, he knew she would.

* * *

Derek didn't say anything on the way there, just listened to Chloe try to fill the silence until, finally, he chuckled, "Chloe?"

Her head whipped to him, eyed wide. "Y-yeah?" Her voice was far too husky for his liking, but he brushed it off.

"Don't worry, you don't have to talk." He let his mouth twitch up a little.

She relaxed, obviously not caring now. Her legs crossed at the ankles, body slumping down in her seat and messing up her curls. "Where are we going?" she asked absently, lolling her head towards him casually as her eyes closed.

"A secret place," he said, holding a finger to his lips.

She smiled as her hand dropped down between their armrests, her face turned to him. She drew her legs up, curling in on herself as her hand touched his. Her tiny fingers sought out his forearm, clutching it like he was her favorite teddy bear.

Hiding a smile in his sleeve, fake coughing, he felt his heart pound a little bit.

The rest of the drive was quiet, broken only by the occasional crackle in the radio station as the music droned on and on. He lowered it with a nudge of his good hand, gently, so as not wake up the sleeping girl.

Having her next to him, holding his hand, sent his heart thumping, loud, in his chest; all the blood rushed in his ears, into his cheeks. It was hard to believe that she wanted _him_, with his scars and violent tendencies and utterly fucked-up past. She still wanted him, anti-social, rude, snarky. She'd rather have _him_ than Royce or Ramon or Liam. He grinned, grateful for the long, empty stretch of road, with little to no other vehicles because, really, who believe that the Killer Mutt, Derek Souza, Resident Monster, could smile—hell, no, even be _loved? _He was bad, a monster, no worse than Cain, that bastard. He was a monster's son, a monster himself, and nothing would ever change that.

He felt Chloe stir, pressing her cheek against the inside of his elbow, breath ghosting across his skin deliciously. His pulse quickened, jumping under the surface of his skin. Her skin was smooth and silky against his, curls tickling.

_Beautiful. _He shifted and she looked so breath taking. Quickly, he turned his attention back to the road._  
_


End file.
